


Day 23: Nobody Knows You Baby The Way I Do

by Larrymama15



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Top Harry, Top Louis, a tiny bit of edging, but blink and you'll miss it, but its fun and not so obvious, i apologize for having terrible tags, the most delicate hint of dominance, they kind of share that really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrymama15/pseuds/Larrymama15
Summary: The challenge on this day is to have sex somewhere outdoors or semi-public. Harry wakes up with a plan. But then again, maybe he's not the only one? Louis shows his sentimental side and gives Harry a major surprise from their past.





	Day 23: Nobody Knows You Baby The Way I Do

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank my amazing betas and everyone else who read through this and encouraged me. I have the most amazing and lovely friends. 
> 
> Also thank you to the creators of this challenge, I am so excited to see how this turns out!
> 
> And of course, I have to mention the phenomenal art made by Gina, twopoppies on Tumblr. I couldn't be more thankful to her if I tried! 
> 
> Happy Reading!

Harry wakes up with a plan. He's going get the kids together and to take them to his mum's, and then he and Louis are going to go to the coast. Even though it's October, he and Louis had decided towards the beginning of this challenge that this weekend was the one they would try to dedicate to Harry's outdoor kink, so today's challenge is to have sex outdoors or somewhere semi-public, and Harry has been secretly planning and looking forward to this day for at least a week now. He's definitely lying to himself if he doesn't admit his slight exhibitionist kink, something he knows his incredibly handsome, albeit slightly snoring husband currently blissfully sleeping next to him doesn't quite share as enthusiastically.

Louis has always been up for any adventure Harry has ever asked him to partake in though, so even if Harry has to pout a little, he hopes he can at least get Louis to fuck him in the car next to the ocean. Louis' major concern has always been getting caught, and though they've sucked each other off in plenty of loos all up and down the countryside, it's a quite a different thing to be good and properly fucked in a car for someone, especially a beat cop or something, to stumble upon.

That thought sends a zing of arousal down through Harry to his toes, and he squeezes his morning wood just once at the base, breathing slightly heavier and rolling to look at the clock. He sends a tiny prayer of thanks to the heavens that his children have always been exceptional sleepers, as he wriggles his way back into Louis' arms, being obnoxious and over the top with his movements until he hears Louis groan softly.

"What time is it, H?"

Harry rolls over so he is facing his gorgeous husband and wraps himself around him. "Still pretty early" he whispers sheepishly, his eyes lowered, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously as he hears Louis' morning raspy little chuckle. "Jesus Harry, haven't you been getting enough of me lately?" Louis jokes, pulling Harry in closer and giving him tiny little kisses on his shoulder. "Or did you want to go outside and have a romp in the backyard? Get this 'sort of public/outdoorsy' thing of yours over with?"

Harry swats Louis every so gently on the shoulder and drops his hand to Louis' hip, gently massaging a spot he knows is one of Louis' trouble areas. Louis' eyes narrow a bit before he flutters them shut completely, Harry staring at the eyelashes that fan across his cheekbones. His husband really is one of the most handsome men he's ever seen in real life, and he increases the pressure as he hears Louis' breath intake slightly and a small moan escape his lips. Louis presses a hand into the small of Harry's back, and inches his hips forward just a bit so he can firmly plant his rapidly hardening cock onto Harry's thigh. Harry sighs at the sensation and is about two seconds away from reaching for the lube in his nightstand drawer when-

"Daddy! Papa!" A little voice cries out, and Harry groans in frustration as Louis' eyes pop open and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Shit" he chuckles "someone better go tend to her before she comes in here. Whose turn is it?"

Harry rolls his eyes and moves to grab his pants from the floor. He wiggles his bum a little as he jumps into them, and Louis laughs, smacking him on the arse while Harry flips his cock up into the waistband of his joggers, a trick he quickly perfected long ago to save from explaining awkward erections. He bends down to peck Louis gently on the lips and swipes some of his fringe from his face. "Just remember love, you owe me for this." He murmurs, and Louis swallows thickly. He locks eyes with Harry and quirks his brows once, suggestively, before swooping forward to nip at Harry's bottom lip. "Oh don't worry love," Louis whispers, "I absolutely plan on making it up to you later."

**************

Harry hears Louis pull in from dropping the kids off at his mum's. He is thrumming with excitement, he has been flitting around from room to room all morning, throwing all of his energy into picking up after their cyclones disguised as children. He just finished his shower and is now standing in their bedroom trying to decide what to wear. What exactly does one wear to prepare for outdoor sex on a crisp autumn Sunday? He is standing in his closet fully engrossed, tapping his foot and chewing his bottom lip, when a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist and spin him around, until he is met with ice blue eyes and cheekbones for days.

"It doesn't matter, H." Louis purrs, looking up at him through lowered eyes.

"What doesn't matter, Lou?" Harry questions.

"It doesn't matter what you wear. You look perfect in anything. Everything. You always look amazing." Louis says, his voice full of affection, and Harry can feel a faint blush on the tips of his ears. He has been married to this man for years, they have been sick in front of each other, have yelled and fought and spent nights apart sulking, they have cleaned up unspeakably disgusting things from their children together, but a single compliment like this still makes his heart soar with a sense of desire and pride. He dips ever so slightly and pulls Louis into a kiss. It begins innocently enough, but when Louis parts his lips for Harry's tongue to slide in, it quickly turns into something more heated, and Harry is dropping the towel at his waist and pushing Louis towards the bed with a look of pure hooded lust in his eyes. Outdoors be damned. He needs Louis, now.

Louis breaks away suddenly, gasping for air, and shakes his head, clicking his tongue at Harry with a look of endearment in his eyes. Harry throws up his hands and groans in frustration and Louis laughs at him, walking past Harry and into their closet.  
"Here, love. Wear something warm. We are going to be outdoors, after all." Louis grabs a pair of Harry's most comfortable skinnies and a hoodie. "I'll leave you to get dressed. Make sure you wear socks."

Harry wrinkles his nose. "We're not going to keep our socks on while we fuck, are we?"

Louis grabs Harry's chin in his hand and moves Harry's head from side to side, just slightly. "Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth."

Harry smirks. "This mouth can get pretty dirty too." He bites his bottom lip and rolls his hips suggestively, and Louis drops his hand, and turns away to leave their room with a wink.

"I'm counting on that." He says. And then he's gone.

*************

Harry gasps and practically jumps from their car, the crisp autumn air filling his lungs as he sprints towards the tent set up in front of him. He turns back to look at his husband, who is leaning against the car door with a crinkle-eyed smile on his face. Louis starts to walk slowly towards him then, his delicate little hips swaying ever so slightly. Harry is amused and in awe and delighted all at once with the man he marries, and he can feel the warmth of his devotion blooming over his heart and numbing him to slight snap in the air.

"Louis! Louis, did you do this? LOUIS! This isn't the coast, this is... we're in-"

"Leeds." Louis grins, finishing Harry's sentence for him.

Harry gapes at him, and turns to take in the empty festival grounds all around him, a lone tent staked in the ground a few yards in front of him. "Louis, how did you do this?" Harry demands, breathless and feeling dizzy with anticipation. The last time he had been to Leeds with Louis, they had been practically teenagers, long before they were married and had children, before potty training and bedtime stories consumed their lives, before stress and exhaustion slowly crept in to overtake passion and intimacy, before quick pecks goodbye and hurrying out the door, or long glances at each other across a sofa, children and toys piled between them, before sleepless night were brought on by nightmares or colic, and were instead fueled by quests to map and then worship every square inch of each other's bodies.

A memory plays from the corners of Harry's mind, of thousands of people scattered throughout these grounds, of dancing all day and all night long, of mud in his wellies and rainbow colored sunsets, of loud, incredible music by bands he adored playing in the background, of red plastic cups upon cups of beer that made his brain fizzy, of a tent with just one sleeping bag, of song lyrics being murmured onto his skin like a prayer and his damp chestnut curls being pulled until his scalp tingled and burned, of fingers wrapped around his mouth to muffle his moans of pleasure, memories of aching amounts of ecstasy and one orgasm after another, and the urge to never stop, never leave, stay connected and inside each other for always. He remembers falling asleep in a tangle of limbs and a tent that smelled just like the song, like sex and candy, and remembers waking up with Louis' arms wrapped around him along with the knowledge wrapped around Harry's brain that he would do whatever it took to achieve a life with Louis that looked an awful lot like the one he is all too familiar with now. Memories of the man of his dreams who stands before him in the present, a little less worn around the edges then, Louis was a tan ball of boundless energy that vibrated, shimmered, and shined almost too bright for Harry at times. Louis had always been the sun, the center of Harry's world since the moment he had walked into it. Harry felt himself drawn to Louis, orbiting around his star-like brilliance.

Louis tilts his head to one side and stares at Harry for a beat, and as he looks at Harry, he can almost see the same memories playing in Louis' warm and tender gaze, and he wonders just briefly what he looks like to his husband. How much have the years changed and affected him? He was a doey-eyed love struck kid the last time they were here, all awkward limbs, big green eyes, a wide set mouth, and a too deep voice, but Louis had still looked at him like he was the whole world, like his body was carved from marble, had seemed just as drawn to Harry as Harry was to Louis, had been intent on and content to bury himself into Harry over and over and not stop until Harry saw himself as a creature deserving of such adoration.

Harry is a bit overwhelmed by the look of pure lust that suddenly washes over Louis face, and he takes three long strides to close the gap between them before grabbing Louis' face in his hands and fervently joining their mouths into a searing kiss. He pours all of his devotion into it, all the things he wants to say to Louis but can't seem to find the words, all his gratitude for their time then and their life they've built together now, and Louis accepts it all and gives him everything right back, that much more intently. Harry breaks away first, leaving both of them gasping, and Louis unwinds his fists from Harry's hoodie.

"Louis. Are we alone?" Harry mutters, his forehead leaning against his husband's and Louis nods slightly, and pulls away just a fraction of an inch to look around. "Well when I spoke with the grounds men, I asked if we could be left alone for a few hours." He speaks in hushed tones even though they are pointedly alone in this vast landscape, his rasp so delicate, that Harry wants to curl up and take a nap in his voice. "They were very accommodating, especially so after they'd been pretty decently compensated. I told them this was a special place to us, and to not disturb unless emergent. So sorry H, but the possibility of us being discovered in the throes of passion are pretty rare." Harry makes a noise of dissent and Louis chuckles. "Oh let's not pretend that's not a thing, I think we both know better than that. But as for me, I prefer to have you all to myself. And I suppose I could still put my hand over your mouth to muffle those moans you seem to specialize in while I tug on these curls of yours, just for old time's sake, eh love?" For emphasis, Louis reaches up and give Harry's hair a sharp tug, and Harry's heart begins to hammer in his chest. After so many years together, Louis knows exactly all the right buttons to push to get Harry's blood pumping hotter and harder in his veins.

"To the tent. Now." Harry growls, and pulls Louis forward a bit by the elbow. Louis' eyes narrow a bit and he moves to push away from Harry, but Harry is quicker and gently tugs him by the wrist this time, turning himself full bodied and practically dragging Louis behind him to the tent. Harry isn't quite thinking clearly, his brain clouded over with the intense and overwhelming desire to get the man he adores so much naked and bedded. He has been on the edge all day, his anticipation and excitement driving him wild, and Louis' over the top romantic gesture has left Harry is a lustful haze. He is dying, actually dying, to get his hands and mouth and teeth and cock all over Louis.

The tent that Louis had set up is very large and elaborate, and inside there is an air mattress alongside a battery powered heater and stereo both playing, and when Harry's ear catches the melody playing he gasps aloud, Louis smiling beatifically at him. It was a band whose concert they had attended the last time they were here, and Harry finds himself again overwhelmed with love and need. Harry often feels this way around Louis, like he's thirsty and Louis' body is the only thing that can quench that thirst, like he's itchy and Louis is the only thing that can soothe his skin.

Harry watches as Louis adjusts the heater, he can see Louis shiver, even under his all his layers, and for just a moment Harry is worried about the definite chill in the air, and he's about to make a joke regarding their socks when Louis sighs contentedly and turns, before suddenly launching himself into Harry's arms, and Harry is nearly knocked off his feet entirely before catching his balance, righting himself and Louis, and palming Louis' shrine-worthy arse as Louis encircles his legs around Harry's waist.

Between kisses, Louis speaks. "I have been fucking waiting all day to get my hands on you, Haz."

"You had several opportunities, if I recall, Lou. Opportunities that you turned down." Harry argues, gripping Louis' arse cheeks and biting at his neck.

"Yes well," Louis responds, thrusting his hips forward, "I just wanted you to wait a little. You're shamefully impatient." He grins wickedly, moves Harry's sweatshirt off his shoulder just so, and proceeds to suck a deep purple bruise into his skin, scraping his teeth over the mark when he's done, admiring his work. The sensation has Harry moaning, and Louis snakes a hand from behind Harry's neck to lay across Harry's mouth firmly. He leans into the shell of Harry's ear and whispers, "Ah ah ah my sinful one, keep quiet and you'll get a nice reward, can you do that for me love?" And Harry is nodding, eyes wide, so Louis flashes him a sly, knowing grin and rolls his hips forward, testing Harry's level of obedience. Harry's eyes flutter shut but he makes not a peep, and Louis' smile widens.

"What a good one you are, gorgeous. So good for me. So perfect, so lovely. Now put me back on the ground and take off your clothes. Then get on the bed and do. not. touch. yourself. Okay, H?"

Harry glows with the praise he was just given and and strips hurriedly, eager to please Louis and so so intrigued about where this is going next. He lays down on the air mattress and looks at Louis, who is taking his time getting undressed. He is a vision, so much strong muscle compacted in a gloriously small frame, his face just dusted with this morning's unshaven scruff, his beautiful blue eyes complimented by the tiniest hints of gold tones in the fringe that occasionally falls in front of them. He's an absolute vision, and as Harry watches him remove his clothes so delicately, his cock twitches untouched, but still filling nicely to the image of his husband before him and the excitement of what is to come.

Louis removes a bottle of their favorite lube from his sweatshirt pocket and places it on the bed beside Harry, and looks at him with a warm twinkle and a minor note of concern. "Are you warm enough, lover of mine?" Harry nods gravely, not wanting to speak, and Louis, now naked himself, sinks down to lay next to him. He kisses Harry deeply, and wraps one dainty but firm hand around Harry's cock and strokes him just twice dry, testing Harry's erection and grinding his own hips down onto Harry, chasing a sensation he knows he'll find.

Louis breaks away from the kiss first. "What do you want, Harry?" He says in a hushed tone, fervent, the desire plain in his raspy, higher pitched voice. "Anything you want babe, just name it." Harry groans, his mind whirring with all of the possibilities.

 

"I want... I want... God, Louis I don't know! I want you. All of you. I want to scream your name out into these empty fields, I want to call down God himself, I want you to pull my hair until my scalp aches, I want bruises and bite marks and scratches all up and down my fucking body, I want your mouth and fingers and especially that cock of yours on me and in me and I want. I want you to hold me down and fuck me until all the air deflates from this mattress and we have to stop for health reasons." Harry pulls Louis into a bruising kiss for emphasis, and grabs a handful of Louis' delicious arse to give an intense squeeze to. Louis slides his tongue into Harry's mouth and kisses him deeply, the two of them roaming their hands about each other's naked and aroused bodies and melting into each other, quickly finding a sort of escalating rhythm that leave each of them enthusiastically pushing the other for more.

Louis is the first to move, his hand flashing to the side as he flips Harry again to his back and kisses down his torso and to his powerful thighs, murmuring song lyrics that are softly playing in the background, and Harry has such a heady rush of memory and excitement pulse through him he nearly comes right there on the spot. He is worked up now, to a near frenzy, desperate to have Louis do something, anything, to douse the flames flickering in his bloodstream.

"Babe." Louis deadpans, and Harry stills instantly. "I want you to promise me that you will make whatever noise you want, okay? Shout. Yell. Talk to God. Moan. Can you do that for me, H?" Harry bites his bottom lip and squirms, delirious with anticipation while watching Louis slick up a finger. "Good." And while Harry is waiting for the slide of Louis' finger, he gasps and almost kicks when he feels Louis' hot breath on his ring of muscle. Louis takes the tiniest kitten lick, whispering words into Harry that he will never get to know, and Harry squirms again, wanting more, always more, until Louis broadly swipes the full width of his entrance and then immediately swirls his tongue over the whole perimeter as Harry swears quietly.

"Jesus fuck Christ god holy shit." Harry whispers, the sensation of Louis' tongue sending his brain into a firestorm.

Louis begins an attack on Harry's opening, alternating between short kitten licks and long broad stripes, encouraging Harry to be louder and louder until Harry's legs begin to quiver and he has called upon every saint he can recite from memory, and when Louis pushes past the tight ring of muscle with his tongue and a slicked up finger, Harry shouts and babbles and asks Louis to please let him come. Louis ignores him and continues relentlessly with his finger, working Harry open and Harry is frantic, squirming with delicious pleasure on the mattress, his cock leaking an obscene amount of pre-come, the head a deep red color. He begs Louis for another finger and Louis obliges, soothing Harry and whispering into him once again, turning and crooking his fingers until-

"Fuck shit godammit holy fuck Lou Jesus FUCK LOU"

Until he has landed directly on Harry's prostate, a spot Louis is so familiar with he could draw a map to it with his eyes closed. He slips in another finger while Harry continues his nonsensical, often blasphemous ranting, his volume inching ever higher when Louis crooks those devilish fingers and tickles his prostate. Louis takes Harry up several notches but always pulls him back down when Harry speaks of coming, a dizzying game of tug of war that has Harry on all kinds of edges and ledges, his husband a master manipulator of Harry's sexual needs, armed with years worth of knowledge of just how to twist and work and move, every crook and every turn exactly how he knows Harry likes it.

Louis is slow moving, skillfully and wickedly prepping Harry to receive him, taking his time, enjoying the task. He is thorough but never boring, fiendish and clever, kneading Harry's thighs and always speaking, words of praise spilling from him as rapid and consistent as Harry's irreverent chattering, the two of them lost in each other. Louis feels calm but determined, marching ever forward, the sensations of giving Harry so much but never seeming overwhelmed, and Harry is in awe of how he can remain so in control as Harry feels himself losing his own, until he hears himself begging, pleading with Louis to please please fuck him now, so Louis crooks right at his prostate one last time and Harry shouts, and then Louis is slicking himself up and nudging his rock hard cock right at Harry's entrance, and once he's aligned to his satisfaction he pushes in with a grunt. His eyes flutter shut as he bottoms out, and they open slowly as he looks down at Harry who sighs, soothed and full and feeling like there is no place on earth he'd rather be than here, Louis inside him, filling him up to completeness. He revels in that feeling for just a split second longer before nodding once at Louis, his signal to move. And so he does.

"Harry. My Harry. Always so good. Always so beautiful. Look at you, just look at you. Perfect. Lovely. A god. God. Harry. My god. I love you. You're mine. And I love you. You're so. Harry. You. Feel. Amazing. Incredible" Louis is thrusting on the downturn of every point of speech, reaching up and tugging Harry's curls in rhythmic tandem to the snap of his hips, his movements practiced and perfect and knowing. Harry can feel tears leaking from the sides of his eyes as Louis pulls and thrusts, the intense pain/pleasure mix fiercely overpowering his brain.

 

Harry can feel Louis' eyes on him and the all-consuming concentration of his gaze bores a hole straight into Harry's soul, the intimacy almost too much for him to bear and his arms are wild, touching Louis all over, attempting to anchor himself Louis before he floats away. Louis is deadly accurate with the aim of his achingly hard cock, years worth of similar positions giving him the ability to nail Harry's prostate head on with every thrust, Harry's moans spilling out of him like a cup that's overflowing, matched by Louis' breathy muttering, noises and words of praise that have driven Harry wild for all their years together, and he begins to lift his own hips slightly, angling to meet Louis, the two of them working together like a well oiled machine, each of them focused on giving the other the maximum amount of pleasure possible.

Harry is alight, flames licking ever higher at the bottom of his spine, flames dancing through his bloodstream, his heart afire and the heat racing through his veins with every thud. He is going to burn alive, going to be consumed by this fire, this combustion all throughout his body. His skin is ignited, his body aflame, and through the smoke and heat pouring from his mouth he hears himself tell Louis, beg Louis, that he needs to come.

Louis nods once, just so, and furrows his delicate brow, continuing with his movements but wrapping his ungodly hand, still slick with lube from before, around Harry’s now purple cock as he tugs in time with his own rhythm, the equality of the movement is so much, it's everything, and the friction of Louis’ hand on Harry’s cock is a sensation he's been waiting for all day. He has been dangling on the edge for hours and it’s too much for Harry, so he lets himself fall and comes with a bellow of Louis’ name that seems to rush out from the bottom of his toes, the sound of Harry’s voice saying his husband’s name echoing around them. Harry feels the flames finally sizzle as he shoots a load of come hot and high, Louis tugging him through his orgasm, snapping his hips even harder, the urge to chase his own release driving him deeper. It's mere seconds later and Louis’ abs are locking up, his own orgasm exploding into Harry with the sound of Harry’s name now being shouted into the empty landscape that surrounds them, Louis’ high pitched cry of “HARRY JESUS FUCK” is raspy and brilliant. Louis’ come pulsates inside of Harry, and Louis is frozen in place, and for a few moments Harry can feel the beat of Louis’ heart wildly thumping inside of him, and it's a bewildering and giddy feeling to realize his own heartbeat matches Louis’ in almost perfect time.

Louis thrusts again just softly, more of a wiggle of his hips, and Harry moans softly at him, both of them tingling and over sensitive. He untangles his other hand from Harry’s curls and slides out of him as slowly and as gently as he can, but Harry still hisses at the loss, already bemoaning the lack of Louis’ incredible girth inside of him. Louis peppers Harry’s chest and his neck and shoulders with kisses and restarts his whispered words of reverence onto Harry's skin, Harry blushing and heart swelling at the praise that falls with only kisses of interruption between it, the warmth on his skin a far cry from the intense burning fire he felt just a few moments ago, the flames snuffed down to glowing embers of love and affection. He draws Louis up to kiss him fully and Louis falters, a worried look washing over his face and Harry laughs.

“Babe. Louis. Husband of mine, and the best damn lover I've ever known. Kiss me. I don't care where your tongue’s been.” Louis chuckles and swats Harry harmlessly on the chest before dipping down to kiss Harry fully, but without his tongue and Harry snickers, but respects Louis’ wishes and does not press him further. Louis lays down next to Harry and they tangle up in each other, each satiated and blissed out, happy to be in the other’s arms for the come down of a post sex high.

Harry kisses Louis’s face and interlaces their fingers. “What time is it, love?” He questions, unaware of when they had arrived or even how long their romp had taken. As a parent, to be wholly ignorant of time and/or a schedule was incredibly refreshing, if not a bit unnerving. “We have to pick up-”

“Harold if you so much as mention what I think you're going to mention with my come still leaking out of your arse I swear to god I'll never fuck you again.” Louis deadpans, and Harry swallows his words. Louis rolls over and checks his phone beside the bed. “We have about an hour until we have to leave.” He wrinkles his nose. “I need a shower.”

“Ah ah ah lover of mine,” Harry tuts, clicking his tongue. “I think you're forgetting something.”

“And what's that?” Louis bemuses, eyebrows quirked expectantly.

“This!” And Harry is rolling Louis onto his stomach , Louis so taken back by the sudden movement he doesn't fight Harry at all, the air mattress rolling beneath them.

“Harry what on Earth are you-” Louis begins, not even a slight trace of annoyance in his voice, just general questioning and the tiniest hint of amusement, but his breath hitches as Harry palms his arse and gives it a nice firm smack, and the only thing Harry regrets about this position is that he can't see the look on Louis’ face, but he knows his husband well enough to picture it, and the thought sends a small shiver down his spine. “I believe I promised earlier to show you what filthy things this pretty mouth of mine could do, hm?” Harry hums, dropping his voice a note lower. Louis’ always been a sucker for the deepness of his voice, something Harry tends to use to his advantage whenever possible.

Sure enough Louis sighs, and Harry kneads his entire lower half, Louis pliant and relaxed underneath his hands. He massages up and down his back and works his way to Louis’ favorite spot, Louis breathily moaning. “H, that feels amazing, but you don't have to-”

“Hush” Harry orders, and Louis’ sentiment hangs unfinished in the air. He persists with the massage, hands opening and closing, alternating pressures and positions on Louis’ body. He wants to make his husband feel good, as good as he's feeling now, as good as he felt a few moments ago. He knows this is a personal fave of Louis’, being eaten, and Harry would do it for days if he could, he's very singularly focused. Not to mention, Louis’ noises when Harry has eaten him out in the past are seared into his memory. They have about an hour, Louis said. He can definitely make Louis sing like a canary in that time. He spreads Louis apart and breathes a couple of hot puffs onto his opening, and Louis squirms around him, so Harry places a calming hand on his hip and rubs gentle circles at the base of his spine.

Harry plans on taking his time, so he kisses all up and down Louis’ perfect backside, from his pert, otherworldly arse, to down his legs and back up again, tickling his balls with kisses and dragging a finger from them to his perineum, Louis’ knees spread wide, a visible chill running down his body, a soft moan escaping each time Harry hits a sensitive spots. Harry licks one broad stripe on Louis’ hole without warning and Louis swears as his leg jerks involuntarily, Harry chuckling into him. He is about to happily dive in when he hears Louis quietly say

“Harry?”

“Yes, my love?” Harry answers, incredibly curious. Louis rarely, if ever, interrupts him.

“I know what you're about to do and I was just… I wanted to know if… Well.” Louis hesitates, and Harry is surprised. He almost sounds unsure, something that makes Harry wonder where Louis could be taking this, though he has an idea. That sends a little thrill through him, arousal pricking up his cock.

“Love, my darling Louis, name anything you want and it's yours. I'd walk those these fields in my starkers to pluck you a flower you said you liked. What is it?” Harry replies, rubbing reassuring circles onto Louis’ arse cheek.

“I want you to fuck me.” Louis states simply. “Is that okay? I know you want to eat me out, and God, do I enjoy that, but I really want to feel that cock of yours. Been thinking about it all day.”

“All day hm?” Harry smirks, his cock rapidly filling. He loves fucking Louis and he loves it that he asks for what he wants. “Well,” Harry continues, the smirk settling into his features as he grabs the lube and applies it to a finger liberally, “I suppose I might just be able to help you out with your little predicament babe.”

Louis rolls his eyes and laughs, so Harry presses just a tip of his finger at Louis’ entrance and Louis turns back around to muffle a loud moan into the mattress. Harry withdraws the pressure immediately and wiggles forward to plant a small kiss to the ring of muscle. “On one condition,” Harry pronounces gravely, “you cannot, under any circumstances, muffle, mute, swallow, suppress, or silence yourself.” Harry leans up until his mouth is right at Louis’ ear, his breath hot. “I. want. to. hear. everything. Okay?” He murmurs, his voice deep and full of gravel, and Louis’ eyes flutter shut, his beautiful lashed fanning against his high cheekbones. “Okay.” He whispers, a small pink spreading across his cheeks, and Harry nibbles at his earlobe and then kisses a trail from his neck all down his spine, sucking a purple bruise on the top of Louis’ left hip, a spot he knows all too well is one of his husband’s faves. “Good.” Is all Harry responds with.

He takes his lube slicked finger and inhales deeply before pressing into Louis, and Louis makes a low guttural sound that goes straight to Harry’s cock, and he begins working Louis open, Louis’ breathy moans filling the tent as Harry’s did earlier, the sounds leaking from their vinyl walls and out into the festival grounds around them, and Harry is so aroused by Louis’ uninhibited noises he can feel heat rushing through his body once again. He works quickly and thoroughly, Louis’ raspy calls to god making Harry desperate to enter him and hear more, always more. He is not as patient as his husband, their surroundings turning him desperate and needy and so full of want for Louis that he could fall apart again right here. Louis thankfully interrupts this train of thought to plead for another finger, something Harry is all too happy to oblige him with, again scissoring and opening Louis, turning and feeling his way up to the spot he knows so well. When he lands on it with a waggle of his fingers, Louis lets out a steady stream of loud curses in his high voice that weaken Harry’s knees and he sends up a prayer of thanks that they are on the ground.

Harry stays attuned to the task at hand but never fails to try and make Louis moan louder, Louis squirming and rocking back against Harry’s fingers and always pleading, begging with him and god himself it seems, for more. Harry is up to his final finger now, Louis always so deliciously tight, and he crooks and moves with practiced precision, Louis’ voice buzzing around his brain like a swarm of angry bees. He withdraws with a dropped kiss to Louis’ backside and hurriedly drizzles and spreads a liberal amount of lube onto his aching cock and nudges at Louis’ entrance. Louis falls quiet and as Harry pushes himself forward into Louis it is eerily silent, and Harry’s eyes flicker shut with a reverence and awe for how Louis feels all around him, until he bottoms out and pauses, just waiting for Louis to adjust.

“Move.” Louis manages to gasp out, and Harry immediately does, his hands dropping from Louis’ back to grip at his hips as he thrusts forward, and Louis returns to his loud cries, babbling Harry’s name peppered amongst calls to God and the saints and the occasional curse word, and he's rocking back on Harry’s cock as he did his fingers, the two of them working in rhythm and never faltering, years upon years of practice. Harry lays praise thick upon Louis, quiet, firm, and insistent, though he wonders if Louis can hear him, his moans and cries filling their space and Harry’s ears. Harry angles his hips just so and drives forward, and Louis’ head drops down against his chest and his noises cease once more. Harry knows if he could see Louis’ face he would see his eyes rolling back with uncontrollable pleasure, and Harry is perfectly aware that he has nailed Louis’ spot straight on. He picks up his pace but continues at his exact angle, Louis all but silent now except the occasional panted cry of “Jesus fuck, holy god,” and Harry is determined, fueled by the soundtrack Louis has been laying out for him and the desire to fuck Louis into the mattress and dizzying need to hear the echo of his own name reverberate across the vastness of the festival grounds.

“Fuck Louis. God you are so much. Too much. Jesus. Christ. My Louis. Fuck. You feel. Amazing. Incredible. The best. Louis. Mine. Fucking. God. Louis. I love. You. Fuck, Lou, fuck.” Harry pounds into Louis, drilling his exaltations into Louis with every thrust and Louis is moaning in time, until Harry hears the smallest “please” fall from Louis lips and he responds instantaneously, curling his still slicked fingers around Louis cock and jerking him in tandem to his own thrusts, nailing Louis’ prostate on each tug and it's seconds, and Louis is yelling “HARRY FUCK I'm coming! AH JESUS FUCK HARRY!” as he shoots come into Harry’s hand. The sound falling from Louis’ mouth with a shout and Harry hears the echo on the grounds, and it's enough to drive him over his own edge, and he's spilling into Louis breathless and without a single sound save for a grunt, too lost in the reverberations his husband has filled their tent and penetrated Harry’s brain with. And okay, he has a tiny obsession with the noises Louis makes in bed, but after years of fucking quickly and quietly while Harry prays their children stay asleep, it is essentially a fever dream to listen to Louis be taken apart by Harry without inhibition or fear.

Harry has stilled, his cock finally done pulsating inside of Louis, and he slips out from him, Louis hissing at the sensation and the loss. He flops down from his knees onto his stomach and the air mattress rolls, and Harry giggles, still a bit heady from his orgasm. “It stinks like sex in here” he teases, and Louis laughs. “Well I should hope so Harold, or else we’ve just wasted an otherwise perfect afternoon.”

Harry smiles and watches as after a beat Louis rolls from the bed, rummaging around in his bag until he finds a small package of wipes. “Aha!” He grins triumphantly, and Harry is in awe of this genius, fascinating man he married who never ceases to amaze and delight him. “Until we can shower.” Harry nods, knowingly. He dives back into the bag and pulls out a small bottle of mouthwash. “Just in case you, you know. If you want.” Louis winks, so Harry accommodates him, impressed, touched, but not surprised at Louis’ thoroughness and thoughtfulness. His husband is still a hopeless romantic, even after all this time.

After they are cleaned up and dressed, Harry moves to start attending to the tent but Louis waves him off, explaining that he has it taken care of. He puts his bag in the car and goes to open the door for Harry, who shakes his head and beckons Louis with a look.

“Harry we-”

“Louis, please come here.” And of course Louis does. “Louis, listen. I just-”

“Harry you don't-”

“Louis. Yes, yes I do. I have to say thank you. Thank you for today. Thank you for all this,” Harry gestures, and Louis nods. “Thank you for being the most marvelous, romantic, infuriatingly sexy man I could ever have dreamed and hoped and wished to marry. I wouldn't trade our life together for anything in the world. I love you, Louis. Always.”

Louis nods again and clears his throat. He looks as though he wants to make a similar speech, thinks better of it, and instead pulls Harry into a long and passionate kiss. He breaks away first, fingers wound in the back of Harry’s hair with a whispered “All for you Harry, my perfect darling. Always.” against Harry’s lips and then he's turning to their car. Harry looks out across the grounds and grins.

“Leeds. Another fucking delight. Another incredible memory. Hope you liked what you got to hear this time.” And with a silly small salute to absolutely nobody and nothing in particular, he's off to the car. Their time suspended crisp Sunday afternoon in October is over. Daily life beckons once more.


End file.
